Stitches and Bone
by green-eyed-demoness2010
Summary: Pumpkin King. A title that blinds others from seeing Jack the way he wants to be seen. As just Jack. But what's a skeleton man to do- wait, who's that? I've never seen her before...Who is she? Maybe there's still hope after all. Jack/Sally! ON HIATUS
1. Jack the Pumpkin King

**A/N: I am such an evil person. I decided to publish this when I already have another story that has been put on hold for almost two whole months. **

**Oh, well. TNBC has always been one of my fave movies by Burton... well, as soon as I got over my childhood fear of the opening of the movie when the scarecrow was spinning around...Yeah, I admit it, it freaked me out when I was little. Regardless, it is now one of my go-to faves for any occasion. And as for Jack/Sally pairing, ALL THE WAY, BABY! **

**Alright, little ramble over, now for a basic premise of the story. I honestly didn't have much planned for this to be an actual published fic, but hey, inspiration doesn't take no for an answer. So, I'm just putting this out there for constructive reviews about continuing this "Jack and Sally first meet" fic, even though I already know has been done. There will be angst too (working on it in the next chapter), so don't think it's all black cats and screaming bats (my version of kittens and rainbows, because really, no rainbows at night) like other fics. **

**Okay, now I'm really done. Read on. Reviews please! ... Side-note: if you have any notion about clicking the review button just to diss me and my story, too late, already been done. I will laugh at you uncontrollably and pity you relentlessly about how sad you have become if anonymously insulting my work is the only happiness you will get in life. FLAMES NOT APPRECIATED. **

**

* * *

**

Part 1

* * *

If there was one thing to know about Halloween Town, it was that it functioned just like any other town…but with a perpetual Halloween vibe. Knowing this, the following will make perfect sense.

To earn respect and admiration in a town, any town, one must be a 'somebody.' To be seen as a 'somebody', one must be worthy of being called a 'somebody.' And the only way for this to happen is to be noticed.

For Jack Skellington, this was a no-brainer. He was the Pumpkin King, for ghoul's sake! He was the King of Halloween, both the holiday and the town! No matter where he went, he was noticed. Because he was noticed, he was considered a 'somebody.' And because he was seen as a 'somebody', he earned the respect and admiration of every citizen of Halloween Town.

Jack was a legend. Literally. He was the epitome of horror and fright, the embodiment of terror and trickery. Jack could scare anyone, anytime, anywhere, without breaking a sweat…if skeletons could sweat, that is. He was a master of the pranking arts, a guru of the ghoulish delights, and the most sought after man in Halloween Town because of it.

Of course, this was one of the few things about being Pumpkin King that had always annoyed Jack. Since he was the co-ruler of Halloween Town, besides the Mayor, he held the greatest power and wealth. If anything, he was the sole aristocrat of the town's society, veritable royalty! As such, it wasn't hard to imagine the hordes of female creatures and demons that scoured the town every day, hoping to catch the poor skeleton man alone, hoping to seduce him and trap him in their snares.

For Jack, if it wasn't for the purpose of planning every Halloween, he would never leave his house because of those she-beasts! They were relentless! They screeched his name until the very sound echoed in his skull, causing horrid headaches. They pawed at his arms and coat until his radius and ulna nearly popped off and his sleeve was threadbare. And they were quick, too! How many miles had he run just to escape their ravenous pleadings and crudely blunt innuendos? Too many to count, that's how many.

After years and years of this treatment, Jack had almost given up on finding anyone who would see him as a normal man…Well, as normal as a living skeleton can be seen. All he wanted was to be seen as Jack. Not the Pumpkin King. Not Jack Skellington, the King of Halloween. Just Jack.

But, I guess that dream will never come true….Or will it?

* * *

Jack had successfully eluded the raging hordes of females for what seemed the millionth time that day. Sighing a breath of relief, Jack meandered towards the wrought iron gate of the graveyard. It was the only place where he could get a few moments of peace and quiet, a few moments to himself without constantly looking over his shoulder to avoid another sneak attack from some hormonal love-crazed female.

Groaning over remembering their previous attempts that eventually led to him seeking refuge in the graveyard, Jack rubbed his cranium with his bony hand as a small breeze rattled the autumn leaves, blowing them about his feet as he walked the worn path. He carefully side-stepped a few crumbling headstones and ducked under a gargoyle's wing before he looked up to see Crescent Hill, his favorite place in all of Halloween Town.

And it just so happened to be his favorite time to visit the lonely hill, being almost sunset when the ghosts would rise out of the pumpkins from the patch below the hill. Many times he would travel out to this special place, sometimes with Zero and sometimes by himself, just to watch the glowing souls rise out of the orange gourds, moaning in tune with the dying sun. Seeing the hill vacant as usual calmed the skeleton man as he started towards the curling mound.

Taking another step forward, a flash of random color caught his attention. Whipping his skull around, he searched the towering statues and headstones around him, his sockets darting around for what he saw. After a few moments of seeing nothing but gray stone and dark shadows, he just shook his head, telling himself he was imagining things. But as he took another step, that mysterious flash of color appeared again. This time instinct took hold of him as he ducked behind a neighboring demonic statue, crouching under its silently growling head. Cautiously, he peered around the corner to see what had caught his attention.

His sockets widened in surprise at seeing a breathtakingly beautiful spirit, or what he first assumed to be a spirit. The female figure practically glowed with an otherworldly essence as the sun was reaching the horizon. Because of the pale blue tint of her skin, he had assumed she was a ghost that had risen early, but the sudden bright colors of her strange dress and vibrant red hair told him that she wasn't a spirit at all. She was solid, if the faint sounds of footsteps that reached the external meatus of his ear canal revealed anything. Watching her for a moment more, a rapid realization came upon him. What if she was looking for him?

Quickly he ducked back behind the stone, breathing deeply trying to calm himself. He had to think about this rationally if he was going to escape if he had to. He delved into his memory and instantly knew that he had never met this young woman before, meaning that she must be new to Halloween Town. Where she came from, Jack had no idea, but that led him to the idea that perhaps she had never heard of him, the legendary Pumpkin King. She was new, and would have no idea who he really was, so if he were to go up to her and introduce himself, she wouldn't see him as the Pumpkin King at all! A very pleasing idea indeed.

However, since he had never met her before, he couldn't count on the notion that she had never met any other citizen. Any one of them could have told her about him, blowing his abilities far out of proportion as they described their King, inspiring hopes of being the next Pumpkin Queen in her head. What if he approached her only to find that she was just another fan, willing to do anything to seduce him? That would only depress him further by shattering his faint hope of finding someone to see the real him.

Seeing how his inner argument wasn't getting him anywhere, Jack decided to just observe this mysterious woman and see if her behavior indicated that she was looking for him. He twisted his head around the stone again, carefully studying the woman's every move.

The first thing he noticed was that she didn't seem to be looking for anything. Her head didn't swivel or turn, her eyes weren't searching over each stone and around each bend, just gazing forward towards Crescent Hill. She also didn't seem to be in any kind of hurry, so unlike the frantically searching females back in town, always flitting about on broomsticks, or other such things, looking for him. She walked slowly and gracefully, perched on what he saw to be tiny feet in small, black heeled ankle boots and loose white stockings. He could see her very small, delicate hands gently reaching out and touching the various headstones that she passed by. He was still too far away to see her face, so he was met with a decision. Should he stay in his chosen spot and continue observing, or should he creep closer to find out what she really looked like? Watching the young woman continue towards the hill, he chose the latter.

When the red-headed woman disappeared momentarily behind a two-headed demon statue, Jack took his chance. Rising to his feet, he slipped from shadow to shadow, easily leaping ten feet from stone to stone with his long legs, in order to get closer. Finding a large pillar to hide behind, he swiftly ducked at its base. Twisting his skull around the corner again, he found the object of his fascination a mere 15 feet away from him.

The young woman was sitting daintily on a marble bench near the low iron fence that created the border between the graveyard and Crescent Hill. Now that he was this close, he could easily admire the young woman's face as she gazed towards the still-occurring sunset. What Jack found amazed him, causing his sockets to widen and his bony hands to clench around the stone.

He could see that the woman was tall, similar in height to himself, but still a half foot shorter. She had a lithe, slim body, willowy with long limbs just like him. But it was what he found on her body that made his whole frame go still.

Stitches covered the woman's body, criss-crossing up and down the woman's pale blue legs and arms, even up to her face. Squinting his sockets, Jack could pick out thick, black threads holding together various seams on her legs, ankles, arms and wrists. Looking up her slim frame to her face, he found friendly, bright green eyes and a warm, stitched out smile gracing ruby lips. Her face seemed so gentle and kind, a feature so foreign to the usual glares, sneers, and ghastly expressions that he normally saw in Halloween Town.

Jack was captivated by her.

He had never run into another monster, demon, or otherwise, that ever radiated such peace. The creatures of Halloween Town were supposed to be the scariest, most frightening things ever to behold. They were meant to cause nightmares and panic attacks at the drop of a hat. It was the town's pride and joy to be able to boast of such a triumph.

And yet, to find a creature that held no malice in their expression, nor any evil intent in their being, only caused Jack to be further spellbound.

As Jack was subconsciously memorizing the woman's every feature, a slight breeze wound through the graveyard. The young woman shivered minutely, reaching up a small hand to hold her blood red hair to keep it from being messed up. The hem of the woman's dress rode up an inch or two before flowing back down, settling once more on the woman's crossed knees.

This small action drew Jack's gaze as he watched her. Studying her, Jack finally noticed the woman's attire. Her dress was compiled of various swatches and squares of fabric, sewn together like one would make a quilt. The patches didn't look very much like they belonged together, being of different colors and designs, some spots and some swirls, all thrown together. But seeing the whole picture, woman and dress, he couldn't help but admit that it worked for her.

A patchwork outfit for a patchwork woman. Fitting.

But as he looked closer, he could also see the frayed hem and redone stitching. The dress looked like it was old, or at the very least, thrown together very hastily. Jack frowned at that. Usually, only the very poor dressed like that, as if they were wearing the clothes they were buried in. And for Halloween Town, poor people were rare to come by. Sure, there were always tattered and faded clothing seen on the streets, but that was mostly meant for Halloween, when ghouls needed to look their worst for the holiday. Every other day, the people tried to put more effort in their looks.

However, looking at the woman sitting not 20 feet away from him, he could see a different kind of poverty. The patches of her dress were faded and unraveling in some places, with haphazard stitches in different colors holding the squares together. Her stockings, he could see, were loose because they too were old and threadbare, no longer able to stay upright on her legs. Her boots were scuffed and dirty, as if they never saw a single day of shining or buffing.

Jack just couldn't relate the weathered clothing with the soft smile on the woman's lips. To Jack, it looked like she didn't care at all that her clothes were falling apart or that she might get cold because the fabric was too thin. The woman looked simply content to gaze at the setting sun without a care in the world.

After watching her for almost 20 minutes, Jack finally decided that he was going to walk over and introduce himself. Damn the possible outcome of meeting yet another fan. He just had to meet this captivating woman. But just he was about to rise to his feet, thus signaling his presence to her, the event that he had originally come to the graveyard to see began.

As the sun at last disappeared over the horizon, the moon glowed with a bright, intense white light. All at once the pumpkins snapped open, their faces aglow like the fires of a thousand candles. As their fanged mouths jarred wide, hundreds of transparent, moaning ghosts sprang forth. Their excited shrieks and screams echoed throughout the night. The only thing to interrupt Jack's viewing was an unexpected, cheerful laughter, ringing like bells. Turning his skull back to the woman, he found her giggling warmly as she watched the ghosts with joy and amusement. Jack couldn't help his own smile coming over his bony face at her happiness.

But it seemed that as soon as the wondrous moment started that it ended. All of a sudden, the patchwork woman jumped up from her seat, her green eyes going wide at the stars appearing in the night sky. Her face took on a worried, almost fearful tone as she turned swiftly from the bench and began running towards the gate…which just so happened to be the direction Jack's hiding place. Jack's sockets went wide as he ducked back behind the column, pulling his long bony limbs tightly towards his chest until his was just a small lump of bone and black striped fabric cast in shadow.

Jack was inexplicably terrified of her discovering him, tucked away in a hiding place not too far from where she spent a private evening. Just imagining the pretty woman turning to find him huddling on the ground made Jack's bones shake with anxiety, a most foreign feeling to the normally overly-confident Pumpkin King.

However, Jack had nothing to fear. The young woman sped right past the column, quickly sprinting over graves and deftly avoiding random headstones, not daring to turn her head back for another look. Jack could only watch as her brightly colored form twisted and turned until it slipped through the old wrought iron gates, fleeing off into the night.

When the young woman disappeared completely, Jack pulled himself together and stood up from his hiding place. Keeping his sockets trained on the iron gates, partially wondering if she would return, Jack made his way over to the bench the woman once occupied. As he sat down, he felt, vaguely, through his pants, the warmth of the marble from where she sat.

Tilting his skull back, Jack gazed blankly off into the sky as his thoughts were consumed by the image of a lovely patchwork woman without a name.

* * *

**A/N: Well, there it is. Constructive criticism is welcomed as well as ideas about where this story is going to go. I hope you get what I'm trying to do with the characters, like making them more human than the movie portrayed, and I would love some feedback about how it went. **

**And once again, FLAMES NOT APPRECIATED.  
**


	2. Sally the Rag Doll

**A/N: Okay, I said I was evil before for not updating my other story over Christmas Break, but THIS IS RIDICULOUS! I have updated THIS story again without even opening the other story's next chapter! **

**Oh, well, can't be helped now. **

**I would first like to thank all those that reviewed my first chapter! You guys were totally awesome with your compliments and how you wanted to see more of the fic. Well, HERE IT IS!**

**Just so you know, I wanted to be really angsty for this chapter because it focuses only on Sally and her view of the world. Yes, there will be mentions of abuse (only physical and some mental, NOTHING SEXUAL!), so please provide feedback about how it went. I've tried being angsty in other works of mine (not yet published), but I don't know if it's working. Because I wanted to get very in depth with Sally's personality and background (plus I didn't want people to feel cheated by some brief overlook), this chapter turned out almost doubled the length of the first. If anyone feels that Jack's chapter is too short in comparison, tough. Sally has the potential of more emotional baggage than Jack, that's why I did it this way. I wanted the readers to really get a feel for the darker side of Sally's relationship with Dr. Finkelstein, regardless of how much lighter it seems in the film. **

**With that goal in mind, I present the result in chapter 2. Enjoy. Review please! Same warning to flamers as before: YOU FLAME, I LAUGH AT YOUR PATHETIC ATTEMPTS! **

**Secondly, I know I didn't put this in the first chapter: I DON'T own Nightmare Before Christmas. Tim Burton does. And last time I checked, he wasn't a 20 year old female college student!  
**

* * *

Part 2

* * *

_If there was one thing to know about Halloween Town, it was that it functioned just like any other town…but with a perpetual Halloween vibe. Knowing this, the following will make perfect sense. _

_To earn respect and admiration in a town, any town, one must be a 'somebody.' To be seen as 'somebody', one must be worthy of being called a 'somebody.' And the only way for this to happen is to be noticed._

For Sally, this was a no-brainer. She had never been noticed by the people of Halloween Town, therefore, she was not considered a 'somebody' by anybody.

From the very moment of her creation by Dr. Finkelstein, as she slowly peeled open her newborn eyes to see a world filled with glass containers, silver steel instruments, and the cold, disappointed eyes of her maker, she had never been known as anything other than a maid and a cook, a servant and a slave.

The 'good' Doctor, with his black tongue coated in razor-bladed criticisms, never ceased to remind her that she was just a simple creation, a tool to be used… and nothing more. She was a doll, a living puppet. A handcrafted being brought to life with only one purpose: to serve.

She had learned early on that she had no choice but to serve her Creator. The quick strikes and heavy-handed blows taught her immediate compliance with any of the Doctor's desires and commands. The whistle of any instrument the Doctor held in his hand as it sailed through the air towards her weak, stitched flesh was a sound she swiftly learned to fear. The muddled hum of his chair as it sped down a hallway instinctively caused her body to freeze in terror, trembling as it waited for his imminent arrival. His nasally voice, harsh and rasping in irritation or shrill and voluminous in anger, haunted her early memories as the routine of the home was stored away in her fragile mind.

In those early days, Sally's education, if one could call it that, was spent with long hours and many aching limbs as she was forced to learn her chores and duties _while_ performing them. The Doctor deemed himself far too important to waste time on showing the poor doll exactly how to mop a floor or wash a dish, instead finding satisfaction with shouting out her mistakes and perfecting his aim as she struggled to comprehend faster and move quicker to please him. Sally had had to learn how to walk, talk, and interact with her environment all the while completing the tasks the doctor had set for her. One can only imagine the many days spent in silent agony as Sally willed her body to move and work as her Creator commanded.

However, once her chores were understood and her duties clarified, it seemed the Doctor no longer believed that any more instruction was needed. Dr. Finkelstein continued on with his research and experiments, complacent with knowing that a somewhat capable housekeeper had been put into place. But of course, this did not mean that the good Doctor would just allow his little doll the run of the house. No, Sir! Strict rules were put into place that guarded against Sally from gaining anymore experience of the world around her. One such rule forbade her from ever venturing beyond Dr. Finkelstein's home. She was to be a permanent fixture of the house, much like a lamp or a stove, an object that would have no business being found outside the walls of his residence. This restriction effectively cut her off from all of Halloween Town, the bustling little city that existed only behind planes of glass, mildew-speckled bricks, and beyond locked doors, or so it seemed to Sally's deprived young mind.

The results of these restrictions allowed Dr. Finkelstein to dominate her whole world, controlling all of her personal experiences, including social interaction. She had also been forbidden from speaking or communicating with anyone, should such a rare visitor arrive before being locked away in her room, other than the Doctor. Even Igor was off limits! Her experience with people boiled down to only her brief, anxiety-ridden meetings with the Doctor, so her acclimation to this world was filled with isolation, fear, and submissive obedience.

Now, as one would guess, being subjected to the Doctor's will at all times certainly does not make one noticed or a 'somebody' at all, merely a slave. Whenever she would enter a room that Dr. Finkelstein was in, she was automatically ignored and overlooked unless he had work for her to do, which he most often did. Minding her training, immediately she would begin her chores, but it always seemed like he would give her too much. Scrubbing floors until her stitches creaked, or carrying equipment that her weak flesh arms couldn't hold, she would be forced to bear it all without a word of complaint, for a single utterance translated to many strikes that her bruised body struggled to endure.

Sometimes Sally wondered why she was even given a name, if the Doctor always made a point of reminding her of her tool status. When she had cautiously broached the subject with the Doctor, in a moment of temporary insanity to be sure, he had callously answered that even the most basic, and most useless of tools, needed names. He had directed that last part towards her with a sneer of his black and white lips, subtly driving home the point that he considered her nearly worthless in his cold black eyes.

Once upon a time, that thought had stung her patchwork heart. Knowing that she was seen as worthless in her Creator's eyes had once shamed her to the very core of her being. In her early days, she had blindly hoped to improve herself and her skills, perhaps becoming so proficient at something that the Doctor would have no choice but to admit that she was special, that she was something to be proud of and acknowledge. Just maybe. . .

But that hope had died quickly. Whatever she did, no matter how hard she worked or for how long, regardless of the many sleepless night she had spent toiling over her skills, the Doctor always found something to complain about, something to criticize and judge. And each time, her self-esteem had been torn down piece by piece, clipped apart as easily as a blade to a weak thread.

So, as the years passed under the Doctor's reign, Sally found herself growing uncomfortable and bored with the unending routine of her life. Looking back on her education during her free time, she realized that the Doctor had not shown her any other practical skills outside housekeeping and cooking, nothing that held true meaning in that fabled outside world beyond the glass and locks. Sally pondered this often when she would catch snippets of Igor's conversations with the Doctor, often over purchases made in Halloween Town that the Doctor could not make himself in his lab. Huddled in the shadows of the darkened hallways, Sally would wonder who Igor met and talked with, what the currency might be, and how the described objects were made and how they worked. Her sprouting curiosity with the outside world grew when she compared her life with the imagined people that lived outside the stone walls of her home. Listening carefully, she learned that they lived day-to-day by learning trades and holding jobs to support themselves between each Halloween, making things that were valued and desired by others. Seeing as how she herself possessed no trade or specialized learning other than cleaning, Sally began to piece together the puzzle of her existence and how it all hinged on the Doctor's control over her. He needed her to come to him with any problem she might have, especially with herself since she was a doll, his doll to be more precise, so that he could keep a tight reign over her person and mind.

Hearing about the freedom of the citizens of Halloween Town, a word that sounded so sweetly foreign to her ears, Sally had decided that the Doctor's domination was going to stop.

Sneaking into the Doctor's library at night while he was asleep, Sally had researched the most basic way to take care of herself.

Sewing.

Through the multitude of tomes concerning the subject, along with some anatomical journals that she found nearby, she learned to make a multitude of stitches that would keep her fragile body together: quick ones, long ones, tight ones, and strong ones. She learned all she could about different types of thread and needles, like which thread was strongest versus weakest and which needles to use so her flesh won't have such noticeable holes, so that if she ever needed a repair, she could fix it on her own instead of always running to her hateful Doctor.

In this small way, she was slowly overcoming the Doctor's hold over her life. She was demonstrating that she could be independent and self-sufficient, two things the Doctor had tried so hard to beat out of her throughout her life. She was proving to herself that she was her own person, a separate entity from the Doctor's other creations.

Who knows if the Doctor ever figured out her moonlight studies, for he never mentioned any such doings while in earshot of her, but he did notice over time, the decreasing problems and repairs that Sally would ask for. Blindly, he concluded that she was learning how to finally be careful and not trip over her body so much. If only he knew that the many stitches on her body were not all his own, that they were the fruits of Sally's hard work and determination to be separate and sentient, a new soul beyond his control.

This silent, unnoticed battle waged on for months, with Sally subtly pulling away from the Doctor's abuse and beyond the yoke of his leash, while the Doctor remained oblivious to his charges inner thoughts and drives and his ever loosening shackles binding her to him. Igor, as usual, noticed nothing beyond the silver worktable and the Doctor's hidden stash of doggy treats for his good work. Time continued marching forward with all participants content with their lot, until those familiar stirrings of discomfort and boredom once more took hold of our dear little doll.

One night as the autumn moon reached high into the sky, when she was locked away in her room for the night, Sally stepped up to her barred window to look out over the sea of sharpened roofs and spindly chimneys of Halloween Town. When she had first been created, the Doctor hadn't bothered with informing her of the town and its residents, only sharply warning her to make herself scarce should a visitor ever arrive. The restrictions had been put into place that very same day, cutting off any chance of learning about the outside world. And since she was so new to life back then, like a child, she had accepted his command without a fight.

However, that didn't stop her growing curiosity whenever she managed to successfully eavesdrop on the Doctor and his deformed assistant. All the facts that she knew of the town below the hill, she had covertly gathered from her two housemates. But now, as she looked on at the various houses, buildings, and towers, she wondered what those people down there were really like, outside of the Doctor's imperious opinions of them. Were they kind or evil, gloomy or cheerful? Did they all run shops and have jobs, or did most of them just scare people all day? What kind of creatures were they and how did they come to be in Halloween Town?

Question upon question filled her head until she thought she might burst, her stitches snapping with each additional query her starving mind came up with. Opening her metal window, she felt the cool breeze of the constant autumn night flow over her face and through her russet hair, calming her riotous thoughts. From her window, Sally could see where the setting sun had disappeared over the distant hills and valleys. Looking back towards Halloween Town, the little doll felt an overwhelming need to belong in the outer world, a taboo desire welling up in her chest as her heart thumped underneath her tattered mismatched dress.

She wanted to meet these mysterious citizens of Halloween Town. She wanted to stroll down the many winding cobbled streets and explore the darkened shops, peaking in the dusty windows at their wares. She wanted so much to escape her confined, stifling life under the Doctor's watch, so much so she could practically taste the humid, arid fog of the town fountain and hear the myriad of voices and shrieks echoing in the streets.

She wanted so_ badly_ to belong!

Sally drifted to sleep that night, her head cushioned on the rough muslin of her ragged pillow, her body draped with thin burlap that failed to keep away all the cold, dreaming of walking those self-same streets, not once thinking of the Doctor and his rigid rules. She talked animatedly with the people, or what she imagined them to be, mere blurs and shapeless colors, but real to her all the same. She dreamt of meeting kind souls that loved to scare and work and live freely in the open air, and gaining new friends, or what she naively thought friends were supposed to be as she had no experience to speak of.

And then, far back in the recesses of her mind, where all the images faded into darkness, she even dreamed of finding love, the most foreign emotion she had ever heard about, but the one that sounded the most beautiful of all.

When she awoke the next morning feeling the brightness of the dawn cross her face, Sally sighed in sadness and frustration when she realized that her wondrous time in town had been nothing but a dream. As small tears escaped her pained green eyes, Sally clenched her fists in her thin blanket, wishing with all her might that her dream would come true, that the happiness and acceptance she had experienced in her imagination would become her reality instead of the bleakness that normally shadowed her days. But as the moments passed and nothing happened, Sally released her tight hold of the blanket with a ragged sigh, and collapsed against her pillow, sobbing in abandon at her wretched fate.

Wishing wasn't going to make her dreams come true. They never had before when she had wished fervently for sweet freedom.

After a minute of wallowing in self-pity and despair, Sally looked out her window once more, seeing the glowing horizon through a film of tears. Realizing that her chores would be expected to begin soon, she scolded herself for crying over a simple dream as she pulled herself together and left her bed. But as she looked out her window and watched the sun rise, Sally felt new hope warm her previously broken heart.

Maybe wishing can't make her dreams come true, but effort can. All she needed was the right plan, the perfect opportunity, and a world of luck.

* * *

Sally couldn't believe her luck!

She hadn't really thought such a simple plan could work that well! Honestly, if all it took was a bit of Deadly Nightshade in the Doctor's food to completely knock him out and allow Sally to escape, she would have done it months ago! The simplicity of the plan should have boggled her mind, stunned her until she couldn't move, but her giddy, bubbling excitement kept her body mobile as she skipped through the misty backstreets, reveling in the expansive sky above her head. The harsh cries of crows and ravens sounded like the finest music imaginable to her ears as they circled about the treetops while she danced around their trunks. Her mind was free to contemplate all the hours that led up to now as she finally explored what she had only dreamed about.

Earlier that night, while looking through various recipe books to pick up some new technique or herb combination for the Doctor's food, since he was always complaining about how bland it was, Sally had come across an old sleeping drought recipe, folded away in the back of a particularly dusty edition. The main ingredient was Deadly Nightshade, a sedative herb always kept tucked away in the back of the pantry in the kitchen, for she had seen it often enough while she searched for other ingredients to use.

Seeing a great opportunity lying right there in front of her, Sally immediately set off to dig out the Deadly Nightshade from the cob-webbed corners of the pantry. When she had finally located the hefty round jar with the peeling, cracked label, she was ecstatic to find a good portion of dried herb left, the shriveled leaves and stems still retaining a dark green hue as the gleaming dark purple berries still held their plumpness, despite a few wrinkles and splits in their skin.

When she returned to the kitchen, she hefted nearly all the herb into the large pot of steaming soup that was simmering on the fire. Of course, the recipe only called for a little bit, but with the herbs being so dried out and unused, Sally thought that a bit more would be equivalent. As she stirred the soup to completely mix the herb into the pot's contents, Sally could feel her heart pounding so hard, she was afraid it would burst out of her chest, ripping her seams apart. What she was doing was very dangerous…especially to her. If the Doctor found out she was drugging him, who knows what would happen to her or what her punishment would be. The best she could hope for would be a good whack with his cane or some lighter piece of equipment. The worst. . . well, she didn't dare think of it.

When she had deemed the soup ready for the Doctor, she carefully ladled a good portion into a ceramic bowl, pointedly reminding herself to pick out the obvious dark berries and leaves that would give her plan away. Carrying the bowl on a scuffed silver tray, she marched towards the Doctor's lab, where he usually spent his evenings during dinner. Entering his gleaming laboratory, she felt the shivers of fear trickle up and down her spine, not only of the memories the room always brings, but of her secret plan and evidence she bore in her open arms. Sally felt her breath hitch the closer she came to the Doctor's turned back as he pore over a microscope, his large hinged cranium twitching from side to side in time with his murmured observations, whatever they may have been. She knew that her presence had been noticed when that large white head jerked to a stop, Dr. Finkelstein's small gloved arms falling down to his sides before he turned around to look at her.

Thinking quickly, she lowered her head in obedience as she stood patiently for a direction, not moving a muscle until he commanded her to, such was the routine. Hearing a grunt from her maker, Sally swiftly crossed to his side where she placed the tray of food for him, straightening the spoon and folded napkin just the way he liked it, all the while never raising her eyes to look at him or the room around them, her behavior resembling the meek slave he expected her to be. Not a word was exchanged during her flurry of compulsive movements, and when she was done, she stepped back, folding her hands as she kept her head down. She heard him take the spoon, dropping it in the soup she had so painstakingly prepared, then lifting it to his blackened lips to sip loudly and rudely of its contents.

The following seconds seemed like lifetimes to Sally, as she waited for her conniving and sneaking to be revealed, waited for the glass beaker to his right to come sailing through the air to strike her, cutting her flesh and stitches, waited for his screams of betrayal and deceit to break the silence of the sterile room. When a second grunt left his lips, his hand still lifting the spoon to his mouth, Sally felt the breath she had unknowingly held loose from her lungs.

He hadn't discovered her plot. She was as good as free!

In roughly 20 minutes, the Doctor's head was found laying on his worktable, his small arms spread out around his large cranium, with loud snores erupted from his mouth, his discolored lips stuttering with each breath. Picking up the bowl, spoon, and tray, Sally sprinted off to the kitchen to clean up any remaining evidence of her treachery. Best not to tempt fate by leaving any remnant of what she had done on the dishes, after which she saves a large portion of the soup for later use in other recipes should her plan work.

When all the utensils had been put away, Sally found herself in front of the back door off the kitchen, the final obstacle between her and everything she had ever dreamed of. Slowly reaching into her dress pocket, her small fingers trailed over the extra spool of thread she always kept there for emergency repairs, the needle that accompanied it tucked behind her ear, hidden by her hair. Next to the spool, her fingers met cold metal as the ring of keys clinked absently with her strokes. Breathing deeply in and out, her tiny hand grasped the keys and pulled them out of her pocket. Seeing them shine in the light streaming from the small window in the door made her want to laugh out loud, but she wisely kept her silence should any sound wake the Doctor. Pulling the correct one from its brothers, she positioned it in front of the keyhole. On her next exhale, she pushed it in and turned. Hearing the soft click of the lock caused a single tear to escape her eye.

With one final calming breath, she wrenched the doorknob and shoved open the door, stepping through for the first time.

All the dreams and fantasies she had of the world beyond the walls paled in comparison to the real thing. The colors were so much brighter, even with the fading light. The shapes were so much clearer, while their textures delighted Sally's hands as she felt the grass, the rocks, and the bark of the trees. Their roughness so distinct from the polished steel and tiles that had once been all she knew.

Seeing living animals instead of preserved specimens in cold glass jars left Sally spellbound as she watched the birds fly far above her reach, their feathers glinting and shining. But by far her favorite animal was the stray black cat that seemed to follow her after first meeting it as it bounded down a path chasing a mouse for its meal. Those intelligent eyes and keen slit pupil looked upon her with mild curiosity before the struggling of it prey once more dominated it attention. However, after devouring the tasty mouse, it once more turned it eerie gaze on the doll as she began to giggle excitedly as she kneeled down and extended her hand patiently. Venturing closer, it allowed her the rare gift of letting her pet it, her small hands very gentle on its glistening obsidian coat, it's purring making Sally smile even wider without straining her stitches as she made her very first friend.

Sally laughed gaily as her agile friend bounded off in search of more food, but not before it turned its head to look at her once more in feline fondness. Waving and smiling, Sally turned again to her path and started forward, already having a destination in mind, the glorious Crescent Hill.

She had once heard Igor talking about it while he tried to excuse his lateness with a delivery. The Doctor had been livid that day when his purchased glassware had not arrived before dinner, as expected, but later after sunset. When Igor finally showed up, he had certainly received an earful of his superior's ranting on how he despised tardiness. Igor tried to play it off by saying that he had been distracted by the ghouls emerging below Crescent Hill, an event that was supposed to happen during every sunset, but Igor hadn't been around for it for some time and had decided to stop and watch. Of course, the Doctor didn't accept his excuses, throwing many surgical instruments at the deformed man and threatening to never give him treats again. Igor cried, begging him not to do that, but Sally had heard enough at that point and scampered off to her room with her newfound information.

She wondered what being present for the actual rising of the ghosts would be like. She understood that at every sunset, the spirits would emerge from splitting jack o' lanterns as they would begin to glow with the appearance of the moon. She also knew that she would have to venture into the graveyard to reach the hill, passing many occupied plots and memorial stones that surely held souls of the long departed. But Sally didn't fear any of that. The one thing she feared at all was soundly drugged into unconsciousness back at her prison, blissfully unaware of her actions. At the moment, Sally felt like she was at the top of the world, the manacles chaining her into slavery gone from her body with each step towards her goal.

Approximately ten minutes later, Sally found herself outside the gates of the graveyard. The narrow wrought iron bars were cold and rusted, the ancient hinges creaking as she pushed to reveal an even narrower opening for her to slip through. Finding herself at the top of a gentle slope, she looked outward toward the boundaries made of low-lying iron fences, spying a lonely, inviting marble bench that would provide her with the perfect view of the ghouls. The hazy setting sun provided plenty of illumination for Sally to pick out an easy to remember path that avoiding trespassing on someone's grave while side-stepping the most rubble of toppled headstones. This would certainly make it easier when finding her way back to the gates when she would need to leave. Taking another step forward, Sally began her isolated journey to the bottom.

Hearing the sedate silence of the cemetery was very comforting to Sally. She wasn't listening to electricity crackling in the background like in the Doctor's lab, or the scuffling of spiders or rats as she puttered about the dank kitchen. She was filled with the serenity of listening to the dried, dismembered leaves as they danced around her feet and the nearby stones. Their shapes sharp and jagged as they were soon crushed under her scuffed boots, every once in while one getting hung on the loose threads of her worn stockings. Determined to revel in the liberation of the moment, she stuck out her arms so that her hands would trace the many grotesquely beautiful statues that were placed on pillars marking exceedingly important sites, the tips lovingly caressing their eroded faces as they tried to compensate with hideous expressions. Looking at one demonic looking hound, she smiled playfully at it as she patted its head like a loving master to his devoted pet.

As she walked in leisure, Sally was too wrapped up in her own thoughts to notice an extra shadow behind a nearby stone.

Finally reaching the marble bench, she gracefully sat down, crossing her ankles daintily, to watch for the ghouls. The pumpkin patch situated below the curling hill was easily within view, so her perch was well chosen. She shuddered minutely when the chill of the marble penetrated her thin dress, but not even icy sensation emanating from it could keep her spirits down, no pun intended. She was giddy with anticipation, hoping that the spectacle would be worth the danger she had slyly put herself in. But as soon as that thought met her mind, she brushed it away. Even if the ghosts didn't rise, just escaping into the outside world for any amount of time would be worth it to her. Sure, she had not met any of the people of Halloween Town like she had hoped, but that was alright. Everything in moderation would be just fine with her.

Feeling a soft breeze pick up, she raised her hand to her hair to keep if from blowing away and knocking the needle loose. She didn't want to waste time looking for it later should it fall to the ground, causing her to miss the event. The hem of her frayed dress arose a bit, almost enough to make her blush as her knees were exposed, but it quickly settled down again once the wind had passed.

Looking back up at the setting sun, she smiled warmly when she noticed that within the next few moments, the sun would be completely set and the ghouls would rise from the pumpkins. The orange brightness colored the gray markers a soft tangerine, revealing the etchings of faded names long since lost to time and erosion.

_Only a few more seconds. . .  
_

As the sun fell beyond the horizon, Sally's gaze snapped to the pumpkin patch. Their carved faces revealed themselves as they jerked open, allowing hundreds of pale wisps of transparent, screaming spirits to shoot up into the sky. Their voices rang as clear as bells, each mouth shouting in high ecstatic pitches as the moon began to glow a ghostly white, once again no pun intended. Sally began to laugh as she watched with avid emerald eyes as the ghouls sped off into the night, twirling and spinning all around each other. She absolutely adored the sight as it was everything she had hoped for and more.

But as she watched, her eyes found the many sparkling blinks of stars appearing in the charcoal sky. It was enough to startle her back to awareness of where she was and what she was doing, especially how much time had passed since she had drugged Dr. Finkelstein. Alarmed at the late hour, her happy smile fell from her face as she sprang from her seat, her body preparing for the long sprint back to the Doctor's home.

She had to get back! Quickly!

Instantly remembering her path, Sally darted back towards the gates. She ran as fast as her stitched legs could carry her. Narrowly missing another toppled headstone, ducking under a gargoyle's wing, and tackling the slope to the entrance, Sally pushed herself through the curiously wider opening left between the iron bars and fled into the night. Not once did she dare look back, not wanting to risk the yearning to stay longer in the quiet, beautiful cemetery, not even to see the small lump of trembling shadow huddled behind the first pillar she had passed.

Every tree she passed along her trail seemed like it was mocking her, no longer fascinating in texture and beauty, but scolding her on the late hour she had chosen to return. Ragged, desperate breaths left her huffing mouth as she struggled to run even faster, pleading with Fate to keep the Doctor still asleep by the time she returned to her prison. Bounding over the path where she met her feline acquaintance, she calculated that her journey was almost over. Darting past the line of trees, she spied the strange domed building that served as her home and jail. The lights were still out, meaning that the Doctor had not woken up and turned on a light to look for her. Breathing a small sigh of relief, she hurried up the hill towards the back door.

As she finally reached for the knob, she stopped. Her chest was till heaving from the strain of running along the outskirts of town, her legs shaking painfully from being pushed far beyond their limits. If she was going to successfully complete her plan, she would need to be silent and in control of herself. Waiting for her breathing to settle into its normal pattern and her body to become steady again, she twisted the still unlocked knob and pulled the door open slowly and silently. The kitchen remained as dark as she had left it, the dishes still in the spots she had placed them. The musty air was still and quiet. Tuning her ears to any sudden noise, Sally crept back into the house and gently closed the door behind her.

Hearing the lock engage again as she turned the key felt painful to her ears, knowing that the freedom was once again out of her reach. . .

. . .At least, until she was able to pull off her plan again.

Smiling in anticipation of her next adventure into the world, Sally placed the set of keys back into her pockets and snuck upstairs to the Doctor's lab. She had to return the keys before he noticed them gone from his lab coat's pocket. The hallways, significantly darkened, shielded her creeping form as she approached the laboratory door. Peeking inside, she found the Doctor just as she had left him, snoring and drooling on the table's surface, dead to the world (for a third time, no pun intended). Balancing on her tiny toes, Sally held her breath as she sidled up beside the sleeping experimenter. Slipping her hand into her pocket, she slowly took hold of the keys, clutching them tightly together so they didn't rankle when she attempted to slip them back in.

With her eyes trained on the Doctor for any sign of awakening, she pulled the keys out and extending them toward his coat pocket, and gently, like the touch of a mother against a newborn's cheek, she slid them into his pocket, pleased beyond words when they settled into place without a single sound. But as she was pulling her hand away, the Doctor snorted loudly and grumbled under his breath. Sally froze, her emerald eyes going wide with fear and trepidation, her breath held hostage between her lungs and mouth, not daring to move another centimeter.

_Please stay asleep! PLEASE! STAY ASLEEP!_

Only when Dr. Finkelstein shifted enough to get comfortable again and his body stilled did Sally's body respond to her commands, letting out a silent sigh of relief before she scurried away up to her room. When she was once again safely ensconced behind her bedroom door did the flurry of emotions finally catch up to her mind.

She had gone OUTSIDE! AT LAST!

Her overflowing relief, happiness, excitement, fear, and elation combined into this roiling, bubbling mass inside her chest as she sobbed into her hands, her legs pulled tight against her torso. She didn't know why she was crying her eyes out, not exactly, but her emotions were all so confused that crying was the only thing her body could do in reaction.

She sat on the floor for a while, not really paying attention to the time, but eventually her tears dried as she pulled her exhausted body up to walk over to her bed. Collapsing on top of her burlap blanket, she held the muslin pillow close to her chest, the tears and emotional roller coaster fogging her mind as sleep crept ever closer. She cracked open her lids to catch one final glimpse of the sky outside her window, her pale face stretching with a tire but satisfied smile as she caught sight of the moon, the very same moon she sat under as she watched hundreds of lively departed souls play and fly freely among the stars.

This vision was her last thought as sleep finally claimed her, granting her many glorious dreams of future visits and adventures in the town of Halloween.

* * *

**A/N: Review and tell me what you think! FLAMERS BEWARE!**


End file.
